


The Cardinal Prince

by ShayLaLaLooHoo



Series: Fairy Tales, Re-Spun [2]
Category: Christmas - Fandom, Die Alte im Wald | The Old Woman in the Woods, Fairy Tales & Related Fandoms, Grimms' Fairy Tales, Original Fairy Tale Retelling, Original Work, Underrated Fairy Tales
Genre: (arguably), Anne has a martyr complex, Anne has emotions AND a personality, Anne is an emotional protagonist, Anxiety, Based On A Fairy Tale, Beauty and the Beast Elements, Christmas, Depression, F/M, Fairy Tale Retellings, Fear, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Retelling, Survivor Guilt, Transformation, Winter, but she does cry, but she's clever and grows to be courageous, crying is good, fairy tale, he thinks its pretty, inspired by christmas, so if you don't like that lol bye, the cardinal loves saying Anne's name
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 13:11:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18344366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShayLaLaLooHoo/pseuds/ShayLaLaLooHoo
Summary: Anne Hardy, the sole survivor of a mysterious attack, entrusts her life to the talking cardinal who offers her help. As she learns more about the winter woods, she intends to repay him for his kindness by freeing him from the witch who holds him; however, her courage must overpower her guilt and fear, as breaking the spell requires her to face her twisted memories.Visual inspiration boardon pinterest





	1. Anne Meets The Cardinal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ortholeine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ortholeine/gifts).



> Based on the fairy tale [The Old Woman in the Woods](https://www.pitt.edu/~dash/grimm123.html).  
> TW for blood (thanks, redcaps,) borderline suicidal thinking (thanks, Anne,) some non-graphic references to inferred past sexual harassment (that's a long way of saying thanks, Mr. van Oxley,) and some horror elements in the penultimate chapter (thanks, Morana).  
> Plus, this is obscenely Christmassy in tone for something written in March/April. Whelp.
> 
> This was written for one of my college classes, "Themes in Literature," though we focused mainly on transformation narratives; we wrote an essay for our midterm and a creative work for our final project. We didn't read enough fictional accounts, only Jekyll and Hyde, so I wrote my own. We had to write at least seven pages.  
> Because I'm extra, I wrote thirty.  
> I wanted to share this with people outside my class, so I've uploaded it here with chapter breaks. You're welcome.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anne's traveling party is attacked; she gets lost and found in the woods and befriends a bird.

_‘If I hadn’t left home,’_ Anne thought, hiccuping on her sobs, _‘then I never would have witnessed this.’_

Anne Hardy shivered, stumbling over another root and barely catching herself on a tree. As she stooped down to sweep snow over her tracks, she wished that she’d had her shawl with her. She’d lent it to Lucille, another servant sharing her carriage, so it must have been ruined.

Stopping, Anne gasped but failed to reclaim her breath from her panic. It shouldn’t have been her who survived. She should have stayed behind. She should have allowed someone else the chance to escape.

She didn’t expect her employment with the Van Oxleys to end so gruesomely, with those terrible little gnome-creatures attacking their carriages. Anne hadn’t seen anyone else escape when she dared to glance behind, but she did see those creatures dipping their hats in blood.

Anne wanted to leave as soon as she could, but never like this.

She blew on her fingers, rubbing them together, and wished she were numb inside instead, that the needle-pricking pain in her hands was all she felt.

Anne glanced back to where she’d been and gnawed her lip. _‘Perhaps I should just go back to the main road…’_

The moonless sky cast everything in darkness; falling asleep in the woods would ensure that she would freeze to death, but going back to the creatures would lead to a quicker death. She leaned against a tree, pondering the whys and hows of survival.

A chirp startled an _“eep!”_ from Anne, and she stumbled, landing on her back. Steadying herself, Anne sat up and watched as a cardinal flitted from the boughs of the tree to the snow before her.

Just a little bird – she wanted to laugh, she wanted to sob, humiliated. Would this have been the moment to finally earn her mother’s disappointment?

“How did you find yourself so deep in the woods?” The Cardinal finally asked, a sensitivity in his gentle tone.

Anne shrieked, and the bird jumped in surprise as she scrambled away. “Oh, Mr. Cardinal, forgive me! I got lost, but I—”

“There’s no need to apologize,” the bird replied, settling again and daring to hop closer. “You have no need to worry.”

“I have a lot to worry about!” Anne protested, pulling herself to her feet. “No one, not even I, knows where I am, my employers are dead, I’m hungry, I’m cold, and tired, and…and…” she stopped for breath. “And the least of my concerns is that I’m arguing with a bird! That must say something!”

“True, but worrying and thinking are different things.” The Cardinal ruffled his feathers, withdrawing a key from beneath his wing like a man taking something from his breast pocket. He flew closer to Anne and dropped it in her hand.

She gasped, her interest piqued by the fine detail of the golden key she now held; the ruby inlaid in its handle was so bright, it seemed to glow in the night.

Anne finally felt steady enough to control her speech, her voice only shaking slightly as she asked, “Who...who are you?”

“I can only say that I am your friend.” He seemed sorry that was all he could admit. “But follow me, and I’ll show you a safe place to stay.”

Anne obeyed semi-blindly, at a loss for whatever else she could do. They paused in front of a looming fir tree, and the bird alighted on a branch, waiting. Pushing aside the branches in her way, Anne crawled into the shelter of the tree, too exhausted and confused to question much. The needles had been too thick for any snow to have fallen through, so the ground was clear and dry; however, sleeping here was not what The Cardinal intended, as her led Anne directly to the trunk and landed on a stump where a branch had been.

“Place the key into the center of the tree’s rings here,” he explained simply, kicking the little stump where he stood. He hopped aside and Anne did as she was told. The key sank into the wood, surprising Anne, but then it turned like it was in a real keyhole. Her shock only grew when she heard the click of a lock, and by the time the side of the tree opened like a door, golden light pouring out from within, she was too fazed to wonder.

Anne glanced at The Cardinal, seeking permission, and he waved her in with a flourish of his wing. The hollow interior of the tree was significantly larger than it should have been – Anne looked between the hidden room and the world outside to see that her mind wasn’t tricking her – and it was warm and well lit. There was a bed inside, piled with blankets and furs and more pillows than Anne could possibly use. She stumbled in and sat on the edge of the bed, sinking slightly into the mattress as her shaking fingers fought the laces of her boots. She glanced behind her, watching as the little bird struggled to turn back the covers with his beak. Unable to process what had happened within the hour, nor this tiny service that the bird was struggling to achieve, Anne began weeping again.

“I’m sorry…” Anne choked on her words and dried her eyes with her sleeve. “I shouldn’t be crying. You’ve been so kind to me and I’ll never be able to return the favor.”

“You don’t need to worry,” The Cardinal said, stopping his task when Anne took hold of the blankets. “You’re overwhelmed and need rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Where are you going?” Anne asked, her grip tightening on the blanket. Her eyes widened at the sudden realization that she did not want to be alone, despite how cozy and secure the bed and the tree were. She barely even knew if she could trust The Cardinal; he could speak, so what if he was a witch or familiar?

“I cannot say,” he replied. “But try to sleep. Things may look clearer in the morning.”


	2. The World of the Cardinal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anne gets breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thrilling summary, I know

The world didn’t shatter when Anne woke, and the worry gnawing in her stomach was simply a reminder that she was alive. She knew where she was and what had happened – she just needed to know what to do next.

Anne pulled her hair to the crown of her head, ready to style it into a bun, but remembered that she no longer had to follow the dress code of the Van Oxley servants. Sighing, she simply fixed it into a ponytail. She smoothed her hands over the wrinkled dress she had worn yesterday, lacking anything else to change into, and pulled on her boots. She took a blanket from the bed to use as a wrap, hoping that The Cardinal had returned as promised.

Speaking of him, Anne checked her pocket; the key was still there, solid and real.

She stepped out of the shadow of the tree and into the daylight, blindingly bright when reflected off the snow. She blinked and rubbed her eyes, trying to refocus her vision.

“I flew along the length of the road.”

Anne turned to where The Cardinal’s voice had come from.

“You were in that traveling party, weren’t you?”

Anne nodded, swallowing back the lump in her throat. “The servant’s carriage. I work— _worked_ for the Van Oxley family. Did you see any other tracks? Could anyone else have lived?”

The Cardinal hesitated, and that was all Anne needed.

“Oh.” Her voice was scratchy, and she thought back to the shawl she’d lent to Lucille—her mother’s shawl, with its delicate embroidery of red flowers and vines.

“I’m sorry, Anne.”

Silence hung in the air, stifled by the snow, until Anne finally asked, “I’m sorry, Mr. Cardinal, but do you know where I could find some food?”

“Yes, of course!” The Cardinal perked back out of whatever he'd been brooding on. “I hadn’t shown you last night, I’m sorry.”

“I probably would have gotten sick,” Anne muttered, following the bird as he hopped through the snow. The last thing she’d eaten was one of Masha’s berliners, a delightful jam-filled sweet that left powdered sugar all over the servants’ hands. They’d laughed as Masha recounted memories of Christmas in Germany and how excited she’d be to see her grandchildren once she’d raised the money.

Anne groaned, frustrated, as she swiped away a tear on her cheek. “Ugh! I can’t believe I’m crying again!”

“I can,” The Cardinal replied. Anne looked at him, surprised and a little offended, but he fumbled in the snow – an unusual sight for a bird – and began waving his wings around wildly and apologetically. “I didn’t mean it like  _that!_ But you’ve seen terrible things and all of it so recently, I hadn’t—”

Anne giggled, interrupting him as she finished drying her tears. “No, I’m sorry, I assumed.”

The Cardinal stopped bumbling around, relieved, and pointed a wing at a nearby tree. “There is a knot in its trunk. Do you have the key?”

Nodding, Anne removed it from her skirt pocket, thankful she'd checked. She ducked around branches, and the key easily slipped into the lock. A table unfolded from the side of the tree, flanked by two little benches and adorned with a tablecloth. Anne stared as dishes slid out from the hollow of the tree, neatly onto the table: porridge, fruits, pastries, eggs, sausages, drinking chocolate, tea; all pleasantly fragrant and perfectly warm.

“...This is too much,” Anne said. “I don’t think the Van Oxleys ever had a feast like this.”

“I’m not expecting you to eat everything,” The Cardinal said, a hint of amusement in his tone.

“You’re treating me like some sort of noble lady,” she protested. “What about the waste?”

“There are others in the forest to feed, Anne, but you’re starving. Eat your fill, and if you would like, you may help me take care of the others.”

Anne wanted to ask what others there were but knew that she’d receive the answer soon enough. She tried to be as dainty as she possibly could, but everything was so appealing and she was so hungry that her self-control faltered. It was only her own desire to not grow sick that kept her manners decent.

“I won’t be offended if you eat the eggs,” The Cardinal said, pecking at a small bowl of porridge with all the dignity any bird could have. Anne blushed and served herself a modest helping.

“You seem to know exactly how to read me,” she mused before taking a bite.

“You’ve been an open person, Anne,” he replied. “It’s refreshing.”

Anne tried not to choke on her food as she swallowed it down. “I—”

“Please don’t feel like you must defend yourself,” he added. “There’s nothing wrong with being vulnerable about your feelings.”

Anne glanced down at her plate, poking at a speck of pepper in her eggs with a prong of her fork. Surely there was a limit to emotional expression; she had stories about peers and employers and even family who grew weary of her sensitivity, but it didn’t seem appropriate to bring it up now.

Once they had finished eating, Anne and The Cardinal spread out the remaining food in a clearing. Many animals came – deer, rabbits, other birds, even raccoons and hedgehogs – and ate what they wanted. Anne thought it odd that some of the animals should have been hibernating, but simply ignored the thought, just as she ignored the issues raised by the existence of a talking bird. She'd heard about parrots, but she guessed they couldn't compare to him.

“What work did you do for the Van Oxleys?” The Cardinal asked during a quiet moment.

Anne shrugged. “A little bit of everything. I went where they needed me – there was cleaning, cooking, running errands, helping the mistresses dress.”

“So why were you traveling with them? Wealthy families usually only bring a few servants with specialties.”

Anne was silent. She knew well – the insistent master with his hungry eyes and his wife’s jealous sneers, Anne’s timidity, the difficult chores and sharp nails and red palms – but she didn’t know how to justify those things.

“I rarely say no,” she finally settled on saying. “And never to them. No matter how difficult or unpleasant the task, I couldn’t risk refusing.”

“They took advantage of you.”

“I needed to work,” Anne replied, staring at her hands while she turned the key over her fingers. “And they needed work done.”

“You hated it.”

“I... yes,” Anne conceded. “Yes, I did.”


	3. Anne Encounters a Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anne's fears lead her to make a foolish decision, but The Cardinal (perhaps?) comes through for her.

The day passed as The Cardinal led Anne around the woods, accustoming her to the area and the treasures hidden in the trees. When the sun began to set during supper, Anne noticed that her companion had grown silent.

“You need to rest,” he whispered. “You know the woods are dangerous at night.”

Anne’s appetite for her parsnip-garlic soup quickly diminished. “You’re leaving again.”

“I’ll be back in the morning, I promise.”

That did little to quell her anxiety as they went to the great fir tree. Before she entered, she stopped, turned, and faced The Cardinal.

“Where do you go? Why?”

The Cardinal hopped in a nervous shuffle. “I wouldn’t leave if I had the choice.”

“Why can’t you tell me?” Anne grew quickly frustrated by his irrelevant answer. “Is it because you’re cursed?”

“Cursed? I said nothing—”

“Birds don't talk, not like you.” Anne steadied herself, closing her eyes to stay her tears. “Can’t you tell me anything?”

There was no reply. When she opened her eyes again, he was gone; the snow was only disturbed by the footsteps of their approach, barely visible by the sliver of moon in the sky, and there hadn’t even been any hint of his wings bushing the snow. It was as if he’d vanished.

 _“Cardinal?”_ Anne searched the darkness for a flicker of red. She strayed further from the shelter of the tree until her panic overtook her again, steps quickening and breath growing shallow.

The clearing was empty, and the snow covered any possible path they’d taken through the day. Anne thought, frantically, of the carriage and the aftermath of the attack. Didn't he say he'd seen it? On her gut instinct, she headed in the direction where she felt the road was.

It wasn’t until her panic died down when she realized the foolishness of her actions. Her breath hitched in her throat, and as much as she tried to fight it, her mind grew fuzzy and light with fear. She was desperate to not be alone.

She couldn't orient herself back to the fir tree.

“Can anyone hear me?” She shouted, believing she would receive no answer.

Anne heard the crunch of boots against snow before she turned, facing a masculine figure, half-hidden in shadow.

“What are you doing off the road?” He asked, stepping into clearer light. He seemed young, no more than ten years Anne’s senior, and she was left momentarily speechless by the presence of another human in the woods so late.

“I...my carriage was attacked,” she replied. “I’m trying to find my way back to safety.”

“Well, that I can provide,” the man replied, grinning. Anne jerked back, taking in the whiteness of his smile and trying to ease the worry knotting her stomach. After all, following her gut had led her to this predicament in the first place.

“How?”

“If you follow me, I’ll take you to a manor at the edge of the wood,” he replied, pointing northward. He then offered her his arm, but Anne hesitated.

Something was wrong about this, she felt, but she brushed it off. It was her worrying that had led to the thoughtlessness that had her lost in the woods at night.

She peered closer. His hair and the pageboy hat he wore were the color of cardinal feathers.

 _Perhaps this was her cardinal_ , she thought. Both voices were soft; perhaps she was only unsettled because she could sense him, but he could never confirm his identity.

Mind made up, she reached forward, her fingers brushing against his sleeve.

_‘Anne.’_

That was a whisper on the wind, everywhere and nowhere, pressing at her heart. The voice was so much gentler than this man’s.

She reacted, knocking the hat off the stranger’s head.

Instantly in his place was a cursing little creature, wrinkled and gray, setting off the most odious aura Anne had ever felt. Her breath hitched, stifling her scream, and she staggered back a step.

_‘Run.’_

_That._ That was The Cardinal.

Anne obeyed, turning towards the voice she could barely hear over the stomping of the screaming _thing_  behind her. She ran, looking two steps ahead, trying to remain far from the roots of the trees to avoid tripping, but it was nearly impossible in the darkness.

She stumbled, ankle giving out. Anne yelped but was too panicked to see if she was injured.

_‘Don’t stop, keep going!’_

The creature laughed behind her. Anne clumsily rose to her feet, shaking, and ran deeper into the darkness.

“Where are you?” She cried out, searching.

_‘Follow my voice.’_

“But I can’t see you!” She pleaded. “I don’t know where you are! It’s too dark!”

Tears blocked her vision, and all she could think of was roads and carriages, a multitude of those creatures and their red hats and the blood, blood, so much blood the snow was red and crimson and burgundy.

The Cardinal entreated her, his tone somehow softer in nature, somehow stronger to her ears. _‘Listen for my voice and trust me!"_

Anne staggered, pushing herself further. She felt blind, and all she could do was heed his instructions. She ran until her knees ached, and her throat grew rough, and her mind clouded over. She didn't notice when the screaming was lost behind her, nor when she finally collapsed.


	4. Anne Learns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anne wakes in an unfamiliar part of the woods, safe. She finds an unusual tree, learns more about the forest, and discovers how she might be able to repay The Cardinal.

Anne woke to the morning sun, curled beside a tree trunk. Her face stung from the cold air, tears frozen on her face; still she was warmer than she should have realistically been.

Trying to control her shaking limbs, she sat up slowly; a cloak fell from her shoulders. Anne stopped, staring; it was thick, heavy, and scarlet, with soft, fur trim. Anne ran her fingers over the delicate stitching, marveling at the fine craftsmanship. She hugged it to her chest, reveling in its warmth. It smelled like pine, wool, and, (what startled her enough to nearly drop it,) the subtle musk of a man.

“Why didn’t you stay at the tree?”

Anne turned and, to her immense relief and guilt, spotted The Cardinal perched on a tree branch. She heard hurt in the softness of his voice and immediately wished she wasn't responsible. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I don’t know why.”

“I was worried you'd be hurt.”

“I know.”

“Did...did you not trust me when I promised I’d be back?”

She'd never want him to doubt his trustworthiness. Her lip quivered. “I... I suppose I hadn’t.”

He seemed suddenly panicked as Anne bit her lip, trying to still herself. “Oh, Anne, I hadn’t meant to offend you! I’m not angry!”

“Yes, but I’m upset with myself. I didn’t trust you, and I ended up in danger and hurting your feelings and I keep crying and…”

“And you’re safe now,” he interrupted. “Forgive me, I should have handled that better.”

Anne took a deep breath. To her embarrassment, she’d wept so much these past few days, her tear ducts needed to rest. “Who – what was that? That chased me last night?”

“A redcap,” The Cardinal replied, an uncharacteristic bite to his words. “Nasty little tricksters. They belong to the witch who lives outside the woods.”

“A _witch?”_

“Her name is Morana.” Still bitter, he explained, “she has claimed the woods as her own, and she lives in a stolen manor beyond the trees.”

It wasn’t entirely safe to stay in the woods, but it was Anne’s best option. Even then, with the confirmed threat of a witch nearby, The Cardinal was placing himself in danger by keeping Anne safe. She shivered.  “Someone else should have made it.”

“What do you mean?”

“The others. Lucille had a fiancé, Masha had family waiting for her. The Van Oxleys were merchants. People were expecting them for a holiday party, people who could take care of them without needing to put themselves in danger. I... if I’d fought against the redcaps, or hid someone, or pushed them to the trees to run and hide and take my place here, then…”

“You did save someone, though. You saved yourself.”

Anne was deaf to his words. “Sacrifice and service are two of the greatest virtues – that’s what everyone says – but when I should have put someone else first, I hadn’t.”

“Ah,” The Cardinal nodded. “You wish for comfort and condemnation.”

Anne sniffled, clumsily wiping her nose with the back of her hand. “Huh?”

“You want to know you've done what's right,” he explained. “Yet you also want your guilt to feel justified.”

He was right. Anne didn’t think she could confirm it, though, so she just looked to her Cardinal.

His gaze was firm, resolute. “You cannot have both.”

She wilted beneath his eyes.

“Anne.” She could hear the flutter of his wings as he went to her knee. “Sweet Anne. It is not a sin to care for your own well-being.”

“There are others who are more deserving.” Her voice was numb to her own ears.

“We are all deserving—”

“I left home... I left behind my mother, and she was all I had.” Anne curled in on herself, tucking her knees under her chin. “I suppose I thought I could make something of myself before she was gone.”

He had no reply, thinking. She could feel his dark eyes searching for her feelings, no matter how she tried to hide her face.

“What was the rest of your family like? Your father?”

She shook her head. “Gone. All gone. Sooner than I thought.”

The Cardinal stepped back. “I’m sorry. Last night was stressful, and your day hasn’t started well at all. Is there anything I can do?”

Anne inhaled shakily. “No. No, I just have to get through this. Can we get breakfast?”

“Yes, of course.”

She stood, brushing the snow off her skirts and pulling the cloak around her shoulders. It was a heavy weight, but comforting, like an embrace. Anne thought back to her shawl; its warmth had never measured up to that of her mother’s spirit.

Anne paused to take in the tree: it was odd to see a bare deciduous in this coniferous forest; however, it may have been dead, as its growth was stunted compared to most trees. It was only seven or so inches above her head, and it had only two branches jutting out, but the oddest thing was how it was decorated. It was almost like a Christmas Tree, with several keys hanging off the twigs that grew from its two branches, which jutted out from the tree just above Anne’s shoulders.

“Anne,” The Cardinal called, and she turned from the strange tree to watch as he took the ruby and emerald key from beneath his wing again.

“Did I leave that behind?” She clutched her fist to her chest, hesitant. “I was irresponsible and panicked, why would you want to give it back to me?”

“It’s yours,” he said. “And I’m entrusting it to you.”

She held out her hand and accepted the gift again, knowing she wouldn't dissuade him. “Why?”

Her grip tightened around the key as The Cardinal thought, head tilted. “Because I trust that you’ll do the right thing with it. Let’s eat, then perhaps we can find you a warmer dress.”

Ah, clean clothes. Anne had wondered what else the woods would yield to her. She trod through the snow, footsteps crunching, and didn’t stop until they had reached the tree where Anne unlocked another feast, just as grand and diverse as the first. Anne huffed, torn between her needs and her guilt.

“Why do you continue to care for me?” The words burst from her before she could stop them and continued to pour forth. “I’ve done nothing but cry and panic, and I’ll likely never be able to return the favor. Why do you waste your time?”

The Cardinal settled on the table, watching Anne expectantly. She sat on her bench and, with a sense of unworthiness, began to serve herself small portions of food.

“Because, Anne, you accepted my help,” he explained. “But you have not taken me for granted. Neither you nor I want to be alone, and if I’m to spend my time and share my treasures with anyone, it should be someone kind and unspoiled.”

Anne set aside a dish, burying her face in her hands. “There are so many others who are much more deserving. I shouldn’t have been the one to escape.”

She merely lowered her head.

“Anne…” The Cardinal had a note of horror in his otherwise soft tone. “Anne, do you wish that you were dead?”

Anne wanted to argue that, yes, she did. Because she wasn’t accomplishing anything and had been holding her loved ones back. Because she would never be able to repay this dear Cardinal and felt that she was taking advantage of him. Because her death would mean the ghosts of groping and violent hands would stop crawling along her back and legs, and it would mean nothing more.

But she stopped.

Here she was in the woods on a freezing, bright day, and among the colorless snow, what glowed most was a little red cardinal who treated her like she was the world. She realized that if she had died on the carriage as she’d hoped, then she’d never have this moment, regardless of how small it was to the grand scheme of things. What if this was all that her life had amounted to – a young woman, a spot on a blank canvas, looking at a tiny bird with the same awe she held for the stars in the sky?

“No,” she whispered. “Not anymore.”

The Cardinal still gazed at her. “Why leave home?”

“I…” She stopped, thought; there was a certain level of freedom with the Van Oxleys gone, and they wouldn’t be able to lash back at her if she was honest. Even then, she told herself she didn’t need an answer for everything. “I don’t know why I left. Not yet, at least. Dear Cardinal, why do you stay in these woods?”

“Because I am a bird.”

“Are you? I mean, you didn't disagree with my reasoning last night,” Anne felt well enough to try to eat, so she started slowly with a plain pastry.

“I wish I could tell you everything,” The Cardinal said, a little grumble coming from his throat, ill-suited to his little frame.

“Is there nothing I can do?”

“This... what must be done is too much to ask of you,” he replied. “The risks and the sacrifices required are too great.”

After all he'd sacrificed for her, she wanted to do something of value for him.

“What do you need me to do?” Anne said, resolute.

“You would have to give up the key.”

Anne chewed slower, thoughtful. The Cardinal seemed resigned to her refusal, but finally Anne swallowed and spoke.

“I would.” Her voice broke, but she cleared her throat. “For you.”

“There’s more than that.”

“Naturally,” Anne replied. “Let’s finish eating and take care of the others. Then you can tell me everything you can.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thematically, this is where Anne's internal transformation begins, although it is not yet challenged.


	5. Anne and The Cardinal Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anne, set on breaking The Cardinal's curse, prepares to go face the witch Morana. The Cardinal instructs her on what to do and what not to do.

Just before sunset, Anne stood with The Cardinal at the stump where she’d woken up that morning. Her new dress was warmer and better made, soft beneath the red cloak around her shoulders, which she wore as her friend requested. She more controlled than usual, perhaps due to her exhaustion rather in spite of it, but he seemed more stressed than before.

“When you return, we must meet at this tree,” The Cardinal said.

Anne nodded in response, taking the spool of ribbon in her hand and tying one end to an outstretched branch, marking her path.

“There may be fewer redcaps at the manor at night, as most go to haunt the roads,” he explained, hopping along. Anne followed, marking her path and wrapping the ribbon around some of the branches she crossed. “You should be significantly safer.”

“So here is what I’m understanding.” She ducked around a branch. “I go to Morana’s manor and wait until the crest above the door faces _away_ from the woods before I enter. I find the door I can unlock with _this_ key…” she paused and pulled a plain key, which they’d taken off one of the tree’s branches, from her pocket. He’d nodded to confirm, and she carefully put it back. “…then continue to go through the rooms until I reach a dead end.”

“Correct.”

“That will be the treasury room.” Anne unrolled more ribbon. “There is a jewelry box with a lock that matches my key.” She patted her other pocket, where the gold and ruby key still was. “When I unlock the box, the key will break, but I will find a ring. Once I return to that tree and give you that ring, whatever curse you have will be broken.”

“Yes.”

“And that’s all you can say,” Anne finished.

“Don’t worry – you’re clever enough to figure out what to do.”

“Morana’s magic is terribly efficient,” she griped. “So that’s what you need me to _do_. How do you need me to _act?”_

“The most important thing to remember,” The Cardinal said, a severity in his tone that made Anne stop in her tracks, “is that no matter what you hear or see, you must not directly speak to nor look at any living thing.”

Anne remained silent, worrying. She started a new spool, tying the ends of the separate ribbons together, and placed the empty one in her pocket.

“Which means, Anne, that you cannot help anyone in the manor.”

“What?”

“The witch will take advantage of your strengths as well as your weaknesses, and she will not hesitate to manipulate your kindness or self-sacrificial ways. Anything she can use, she will. Your own safety is your utmost priority, and anyone within those walls will drag you down for her benefit. But remember, if you do not acknowledge her, neither she nor her minions can touch you.”

“I cannot speak nor stare,” she said slowly. “Screaming would acknowledge she’d scared me.”

She wasn’t sure if he’d realized that, but it made sense to them both. If she even spoke to herself, screaming would be instinctual; when she gave herself a boon, then she was likely to lapse entirely.

She wouldn’t know what the witch looked liked, so she had to regard every living thing with suspicion, just to be safe.

They were out of the woods sooner than Anne had expected. She must have been nearer to the witch last night than she’d thought.

Anne reached into her pocket and gripped the key that had brought her so much comfort. To think, she possibly held The Cardinal’s freedom in her hand. “I don’t know if... do you truly think I am brave enough?”

“You have courage, Anne, since you are willing to do this for me, and cleverness,” The Cardinal flourished a wing to the path of ribbons behind them to illustrate his point.

“What made you think this? You’ve only seen me at my worst.”

“If this has been your worst, as you say, then seeing you at your best must be astonishing.” His voice was as light-hearted as it could be in this situation, yet sincere.

Although her cheeks were pink from the cold, she blushed more, not knowing how to accept his compliment.

He continued, serious again. “I believe in you, but I would never expect you to forget your fears.”

“There is so much I fear, though.” Anne tightened her hold on the key.

“And you have always mastered and controlled these fears.”

Anne laughed in spite of herself. “ _What?_ I’m a blubbering, panicky fool.”

“You’re here now,” The Cardinal said. “And you were willing to try.”

Anne looked towards the manor, a pale, looming structure that seemed to glow in the quickly darkening sky, with a dark roof and gables. “I still am.”

Steeling herself, Anne took a few steps towards the manor, but paused when she noticed that The Cardinal wasn’t with her.

“Is this where we part?” She asked. “You must leave again?”

“Yes,” he murmured.

She looked up, seeing that the tiny crescent of the moon was already beginning to glow as the sun set. “You’re worried about me.”

The Cardinal hopped anxiously in the snow. “It’s not that I think you’ll fail. You’re capable.”

She smiled. “I know.”

“It’s just...I can’t help it,” he said. “You’re taking a great risk for me, Anne. Your success will change everything, and I’m worried _for_ you.”

“I know.” Her smile grew wider. “I care about you, too. Tomorrow, then.”

With that, she approached the manor as twilight painted the snow coral and purple until, in the darkness, the ground was a glittering sea of blue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 🎵 _falling in love_ or something...  
> Anyway, have you guys ever gone outside during winter when it's twilight, and the sun has set but the sky's still kind of light and obviously blue and it paints the snow blue? Beautiful.  
> Morana is one of the name variations of a Scandinavian Goddess relating to death and winter.


	6. Anne Goes Through the Manor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anne braves Morana's manor, knowing if she makes a sound or looks at anyone, not only is her life at stake, but The Cardinal's freedom.  
> TW: horror elements and implied past sexual harassment in this part. I don't know how graphic the horror is, but the harassment is super vague. I didn't even consider it too much until I re-read this before submitting it for a grade.

Each step drew Anne deeper into her thoughts: she would be facing a witch, and the witch was in charge of those terrible creatures who had killed her friends and the Van Oxleys. And now she willingly went with no plan beyong what The Cardinal had told her. Of course, she knew what she was supposed to do: find whatever her key unlocked and continue until it broke. Her only defense, however, was just to ignore whatever happened, which she knew was easy in theory alone.

Her breath hitched – was she able enough to act now? The Cardinal would have willingly waited until Anne was less emotionally volatile, which had been a tempting thought, but she would work herself into an even worse state and put it off forever. She had to see this to the end, as there was only one chance to act, or else the key would be lost in the manor and impossible to recover. For his sake, she’d decided, she would act immediately.

Soon she was at the door, facing the crest of a reindeer. She stood until her knees shook from the cold, as the heavy cloak didn’t reach past them. She stared the reindeer down, waiting, silent.

Too late to turn back; it would be silent until she stepped outside the gates again.

Finally, when the sky was dark, she heard metal creaking as the reindeer turned, facing away from the trees. Anne did not allow herself to hesitate before she opened the door and slipped inside.

She was glad that The Cardinal insisted that she take the cloak, as it was even colder inside the manor than outside. Ice crawled up every surface, stiffening the curtains, damaging the art hanging on the walls, cracking the wooden beams holding the ceiling in place. She wondered how quickly it would take for her tears to freeze, as she was sure she’d cry during this ordeal.

It was too cold for spiders to spin webs, or for people to come and create dust, but nothing in this grand front room had been touched for a long while. Everything felt corrupted, oppressed, and Anne was so unsettled that she didn’t waste any more time staring.

Besides, there was a great risk connected with staring.

She looked at nothing besides the locks on the doors, struggling with the plain key.

She’d tried all six visible doors before she stepped back, thinking, watching how the fog rising from the ground swirled and moved. She moved towards a curtain at the far wall, where the fog traveled in wider arcs, and pushed aside the frozen fabric as best she could.

 _“Don’t open that door.”_ Anne stopped at the gruff, harsh whisper, unable to place where it had come from until she heard something dragging on the ground behind her. It crackled like a sheet of ice frozen over...frozen over what?

The lock clicked, opening the door, before Anne was able to place what the sound was when she caught a sniff of its source.

Meat — ice-burnt meat. She almost screamed, her first thought of all the bodies, _what must be done to the bodies!_ before she wordlessly dove into the next room, eyes locked on the floor. She slammed the door just in time for a severed _something_ to be thrown where she’d been, crackling as it hit the wall.

She was somewhat assured of her abilities; at least, she hadn’t screamed.

Panting, Anne raised her eyes slightly so she saw only the shattered tiles of the slick, icy floor. She crouched down to crawl, intent on not slipping, and began to count the doors in the hallway.

Two...four...eight...twelve times two was twenty-four doors to check. Anne kept low to the ground and avoided looking into the keyholes when wriggling and twisting the key. She’d tried five different locks until something grazed her leg.

She didn’t shriek, instead biting her hand to stay silent as she clumsily fell onto her back, pressed against the wall. There was nothing in the hallway with her, judging from the quick glance she foolishly caught before squeezing her eyes shut, but when she went back to work, there it was again: a touch running along her calf.

Anne flinched at the feeling but persevered, gritting her teeth. She’d dealt with worse at the Van Oxley Estate, she reminded herself, but that fact wasn’t a comfort when more hands crawled along her legs.

She fought back a growl, using her feet to subtly try to kick away whatever was touching her. She didn’t start crying until whatever fingers there seemed to be tugged at the hem of her skirt, and even then, her tears didn’t leave her eyes.

 _‘Anne, think,’_ she ordered herself, biting her lip as she worked on the eighth door. _‘Your Cardinal said that if you didn’t acknowledge her, then you could not be touched.’_

_‘Well, then, how is she able to do this?’_

_‘Well, she hasn’t appeared to have killed you yet, so you haven’t failed thus far.’_

_‘It must be a trick of her magic,’_ Anne reasoned, and the hands slowly fell off of her legs. Her crawling quickened; the ninth, tenth, and following doors all passed without much of a fuss, though the twelfth flexed beneath her hands and hissed like it was struggling to breathe. She’d moved out of the way before it cracked, but as it was still in her line of sight, she’d seen it coming.

Finally, the fourteenth door unlocked. When Anne pushed against it, arms burst from either side of the doorframe, reaching to grab her with ragged, splintered hands.

She choked on her scream, then struggled silently to breathe, her lungs aching from the effort. She dodged the arms as they blindly grabbed for her and she escaped into the room, eyes on the floor. She heard nothing but the echo of doors creaking open. Curious, she raised her gaze, seeing a hallway of doors only – which stretched into the darkness without any hint of branching paths – and felt her heart falter.

Anne clenched her fists, the key biting into her palm, and straightened. Set on not showing weakness, she began stalking down the hallway, eyes down.

_“What are you doing here?”_

Anne flinched but kept walking, ignoring the sheen of cold sweat forming on her brow at the voice of Master Van Oxley. She reached into her other pocket, feeling the solid form of her key, reminding herself of what was real.

_“Anne Hardy, I demand that you stop. These are private quarters.”_

Her step only quickened. He was dead, and he couldn’t hurt her, not anymore nor in any way. Neither his wife nor precious daughter could force Anne to submit. This was likely a similitude of the hands and would leave in time if ignored.

 _“Anne!”_ He roared, right in her ear, and Anne staggered, swallowing down a whimper. Then, his breath hissed against her neck. _“I will not hesitate to issue your consequences.”_

Furrowing her brow, Anne placed her key between her teeth – _‘if you open your mouth to scream, you lose the key,’_ she told herself – and clenched her jaw. She gathered her skirts in her hands and, without a backwards glance, ran.

The disconnected voice of Master van Oxley kept shouting in her ear, no matter how many doors swung open before her and slam shut once she crossed. Anne raised a hand to her throat, choking herself to silence a growing groan of frustration and fear, only stopping once it died as a lump in her throat. She rubbed her eyes on her sleeves to dry them, her fear rebirthing itself as rage, and she pressed on. The doors opened and closed more rapidly, pushing her wildly onward.

Her knees gave out at a point, and she could feel the footsteps of Master Van Oxley pounding up the hallway behind her. With a strained breath, Anne pulled herself to her feet and fell against the next door. It didn’t open; she quickly unlocked the door with the plain key, then hid behind it.

The cry of _“Anne!”_ was stifled from the other side of the door.

The hallway had ended, and she had to fight back a giddy laugh, forehead placed against the door. However, her mania ceased when she heard a quiet sob behind her.

Her vision blurred by tears, Anne turned to glimpse a young woman with her face buried in her hands, rocking in her chair in the middle of the treasury room. Anne took a step to approach, then remembered The Cardinal’s warning to be mindful of only herself.

Oh, but that was so hard to remember, especially when the girl in the chair had Lucille’s blonde hair and her mother’s tattered shawl around her shoulders. Anne’s relief that her vision was filtered through tears brought her to her knees, and she covered her ears to block out the sobs that grew more desperate as they continued.

Finally, the sobbing and the creaking of the rocking chair stopped. When the figure rose, her shadow stretched across the floor, and Anne didn’t dare to move.

“My, my, has my little birdie finally found someone _brave?”_

 _Morana,_ Anne knew, and she lurched out of her shadow, towards the trinkets that littered the edge of the room. Desperately she began to pick up whatever she could, rubbing away rust and grime with the cuffs of her sleeves, searching for a lock to match the key between her teeth.

“I never would have imagined it to be the _coward_ who fled into the woods.”

That voice was wrong— too old, too young, lilting vowels and hard consonants, sweet and bitter in turn. She took the key from her mouth to try a lock, but it remained in one piece.

Anne bit her lips closed until she tasted blood. _Why were there so many locks?_ She tossed each item aside, ignoring the cold breeze that followed Morana’s footsteps.

“You must crave death more than my Cardinal Prince expected, if you were so willing to come here,” Morana seemed amused. “You knew you weren’t going to make it out.”

Anne shivered as Morana loomed over her, and she couldn’t ignore the shape of the shadow falling over her.

Whoever – whatever – the witch was, she was something entirely unnatural. Too tall, too slim, but otherwise masked by the length of her robes and her hair. She seemed to suck away all light that crossed her, and her fingers – disgusting, ill-formed fingers, too bony and twig-like – twitched, ready to grab and tear apart. She also seemed to be wearing a large crown of sorts, but as there was no faint reflection of light on her shadow, Anne could guess that it wasn’t metal of any sort, but likely a thousand sticks bound with bundles of fur.

Anne stopped, shook her head, refocused. Something about Morana was undeniably captivating, her silhouette a mystery that Anne’s curiosity begged to solve.

Morana must have realized that she had lost Anne’s attention. “You certainly would have made more money if your master had seen you on your knees like this more often.”

Anne wanted nothing more than to throw the next useless trinket at the witch’s face, but that would surely be interpreted as an open acknowledgement. Still, Morana laughed, perhaps sensing her offense, and continued.

“Oh yes, of course there was the risk of Mrs. Van Oxley and her nice red nails. The lacquer always hid the color well.”

Diving for another corner, Anne ignored the comments and continued digging. She could feel the witch’s cold presence at her shoulder again, but kept at her task.

“You’re filthy,” Morana noted casually, and Anne felt the sensation of a finger swiping over her shoulders. _Not real, not real…_ “I can’t imagine any mother wanting her daughter to dig through trash.”

A frustrated scream was building in Anne’s throat, but she stopped and pressed her face into her skirts, silencing herself. The witch’s laughter tore at her ears.

“You must have gone mad that night. Who else would believe that a bird could talk? Who would even trust it?”

 _There!_ A flash of red, of green and gold. Resisting a triumphant cry, Anne lunged for the jewelry box, pulling it into her lap, fumbling with her shaking fingers, dropping the key into the folds of her skirt and recovering it before it could slip into the piles of gold and disappear.

“It’s not too late to return to the woods.” Morana laid one of her terribly twisted fingers on the tip of the key just as Anne raised it, and it turned ice-cold in her grasp. “A warm bed, good meals, clean clothes. The Cardinal would understand. He’s always been so kind, even to me, once.”

Anne struggled with the key, ignoring that ugly finger and refusing to acknowledge it. It felt almost frozen to her hand, like if she tried to let it go, it would tear her skin.

“The life of a cardinal is brief. You may never need come back here nor repay him.”

Anne didn’t hesitate as she raised the frozen key in her grip – and Morana’s – to her mouth, breathing hot air and rubbing her hands together to warm the key. Neither drew back, even when Anne could finally remove the key from her palm. Anne wanted to snap that Morana’s last offer wasn’t tempting whatsoever, but her logic prevailed. Besides, Morana would never let her turn back now.

In the shadowed silhouette, one of the twigs on Morana’s headdress twitched. Anne stared a moment, transfixed. How could it have moved? Yet the more she looked at the silhouette, the less the crown seemed like twigs compared to spider legs, then it seemed more like a collection of the witch’s twisted fingers. A sickening part of Anne’s mind wandered.

She would not let herself stay in the witch’s presence any longer.

Anne jammed the key into the lock, tearing it away from Morana’s hand. With a twist, the handle snapped at its base, leaving only the decorative flourish and the gems in her hands.

But the box didn’t open.

_“Anne?”_

Her mother’s voice. Anne couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, horrified. But she wasn’t tricked this time. She grit her teeth in anger, wanting nothing more than to turn and strike the witch, though she despised violence.

But how dare she – how dare that _witch_ use her mother against _her?_

Anne closed her eyes, clutching the broken flourish to her chest, the gems digging into her palm. Try as Morana might, she couldn’t harm Anne, not unless Anne submitted by acknowledging the fearful presence behind her. This was so unlike the Van Oxleys, where they could grab or hit or touch her however they wanted, even if Anne tried to ignore or fight against them.

This was different. Anne held the power here, even if it didn’t feel like it.

Steeling herself, Anne promised herself to search until she found The Cardinal’s ring or was killed.

Yet, as she set to work, she noticed that Morana’s taunts had vanished. She didn’t dare try to see where she’d gone, but quietly, Anne lowered her hand, uncurling her fingers to reveal that the remains of the key had changed, like it had melted and reformed in her hand as the ring, the gems brightly gleaming, one round ruby standing out.

Anne stood, clamping her mouth shut so as not to laugh at the triumph. Well, that would explain why she’d had to be willing to give up the key.

She wasn’t even sure if Morana was still here, but at this point, Anne would risk nothing.

She turned on her heel, eyes locked on the ring as she left the manor. The countless series of doors had vanished, leaving behind a simple gallery, and the house warmed; Anne could hear the crackling of melting ice as the fog dissipated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *crying* absolutely superb, Anne, you funky little lady. much clever. so brave.  
> The image of Anne holding the key in her mouth to silence herself stuck with me and pretty much got me started on writing this.


	7. The Cardinal Prince

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anne returns to meet The Cardinal and share the news of her success. Redheads are cute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For best results, read while listening to [The Polar Express Suite](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6EsA-uEBis4) on loop.

The sky was still dark when she went outside, the moon a little higher in the sky, and all was calm. Anne’s breathing even seemed loud enough to break the silence. It seemed irreverent to do so until she was at the edge of the wood and could grab the end of the ribbon path she had made.

Giggles bubbled up in her chest, breaking out into peals of laughter. Anne pulled herself along the ribbon into the depth of the woods, yet she felt lighter and more energized than she had in days. She’d done it! She’d done everything The Cardinal had needed and came out whole!

 _“Yes!”_ She shouted to the sky, then again, because it felt right to hear her voice echoing in the woods. “ _I’ve done it!_ Mr. Cardinal, we’ve done it!”

She made it back to the tree stump in her gleeful daze, but stopped when she noticed that the bird wasn’t there to meet her. Her happiness caved to confusion, then to worry. Hadn’t she done everything needed to break the spell? What if she’d done something wrong?

Anne walked up to the oddly decorated tree stump and leaned against it, pressed between its two branches. She had assumed that once she got the ring, he’d be free to go where he pleased, but apparently that wasn’t so.

Well, she would wait until morning. The Cardinal had never broken any promises, much less that one.

Her eyes closed, heavy with exhaustion as her overwhelmment ebbed away.

 _‘Anne,’_ the woods whispered in The Cardinal’s gentle tone, yet there was an unmistakably joyful note in his words. _‘My sweet, clever Anne.’_

She dared disturb the stillness. “Yes. It’s me.”

_‘We have nothing to fear anymore!’_

She felt the tree shift at her back, and Anne squeaked in alarm but didn’t panic. The branches reached around, but Anne didn’t feel threatened. She held the ring up, and the tree allowed her to slip it onto one of its twigs.

 _‘Thank you,’_ The Cardinal’s voice spoke, and the solid form of the tree began to shift and give way to something softer. “Anne, my beautiful, clever friend! Thank you!”

Anne opened her eyes and saw a scarlet-clad arm where a branch had been. Stunned, she stumbled back, turning to face the man who had appeared in the place of the tree. He seemed dizzy, delightfully breathless; curly red hair messily framed his face and the endearingly boyish smile he bore. He gazed at her with dark, starry eyes that shone with adoration, edged with smile lines.

“…Mr. Cardinal? Is it truly you?” She moved closer, raising her hands to cup his cheeks, feeling if he was real.

The man opened his arms. “Yes! You broke my curse, and the witch is gone!”

The Cardinal’s voice matched this man perfectly.

Anne jumped into his embrace, and he easily lifted her off her feet, spinning them both as the cloak flared out around them. Their laughter mingled in the cold air, illuminating the woods.

He finally set her down, cheeks flushed. “Anne, there is so much to I want to tell you. I don’t know where I can start.”

“It feels almost awkward to ask now, but can we start with your name?”

“Oh, of course,” he replied with an embarrassed chuckle. He even shuffled from foot to foot as her cardinal had hopped. “I’ve felt as though I’ve known you for ages, I’d forgotten how frustrated I was that I couldn’t say.”

“Well?” Anne pressed, beaming.

“My name is Prince Tobias – please, Anne, don’t bow – of Whittaker,” he introduced himself, taking Anne’s hand and pressed a delicate kiss to her knuckles, catching her up in a whirlwind of pleasant wonderment. “This land was once mine before Morana cursed me, transforming my people into the animals of the woods and her followers into the redcaps.”

“The others couldn’t talk.” Anne recalled the times when they had fed the other animals, and had she actually been taking care of his subjects? “How were you able to?”

“I had hoped this day would come, so in exchange for human speech, I gave up my nights,” he said. “Whenever the moon was in the night sky, I would become that ragged tree, only turning back at dawn.”

Anne looked down at her hand, which Prince Tobias still held. She worried about his answer when she asked, “What will you do now that the curse is broken?”

“I’ll return to the home that is rightfully mine, now that it’s been restored,” he replied, nodding in the direction of the manor. “I’ll set matters right again, and... Anne?”

He gazed at her again, locking eyes, and pressed their enjoined hands to his chest. “Anne, I would like to remain with you. Please, will you stay here, with me?”

Anne wasn’t immediately sure how to react as she gauged the reality of her situation, but her reply was genuinely enthusiastic. “Yes! My dear cardinal prince, nothing would make me happier than that!”

“Then may I give this back to you?” Tobias asked, pulling the golden ring from his finger. “Will you accept it?”

Anne nodded, beginning to choke up as she extended her hand to him. She wouldn’t feel ashamed of crying, not at this moment, because her tears sprang from the beautiful flurry of emotions that conquered any remaining fear or guilt within her.

She and Tobias stood in front of one another, looking at the glisten of the ring upon her finger, before he lifted his gaze to her eyes again, grinning.

“Come, let’s go. Tomorrow is waiting for us.”

Suddenly, the world surrounding Anne shifted. A variety of animals emerged from the darkness, and when they drew into the faint light of the moon, they transformed back into humans: deer and fawns became mothers and toddlers, foxes became fathers, birds and squirrels changed into young adults. Small children teetered on unstable legs, trying to chase one another and throw snowballs, while couples reunited with soft hugs and gentle words. Some people laughed and embraced one another, celebrating, warming the cold winter night, while others sang, eager to hear their voices again, serenading Anne as Tobias led her by the hand toward the manor. Where they stepped, snow melted, revealing the cobblestones that formed the streets that twisted throughout the town. The fir trees bloomed into buildings with high, sloping roofs and brightly-colored gables; the ribbons that Anne had scattered around the woods wound through the growing town, decorating the shops and homes with swaths of color. Candles in windows and infrequent gas lamps flickered with flames, bathing the reborn village in life.

Anne, surrounded by the love and joy that her courage had brought, laughed and wept with the people, hand in hand with her cardinal prince; for the first time in a long, long while, she knew this moment, and all those that had led to it, were beautiful, and she felt glad to be alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And they lived happily ever after...
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Gosh they're in so much love :,)  
> (let them be engaged immediately it's a fairy tale and I do what I want)


End file.
